


A Slow Glowing Dream

by flowersforgraves



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Casefic and Missionfic, F/F, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 12:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21374158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersforgraves/pseuds/flowersforgraves
Summary: Adaire rescues Blake Bromley from a scrape. Hella does what she does best. Adelaide is really far too fond of pearls.
Relationships: Adaire Ducarte/Adelaide Tristé/Hella Varal
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	A Slow Glowing Dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).

> Title: ["What A Feeling" - Irene Cara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILWSp0m9G2U).

There's a glow around Hella, Adaire realizes belatedly. Hella is glowing, hair floating dramatically behind her as the pearlescent gleam of her sword flashes in Adaire's eyes. It's Adelaide's handiwork -- it must be, given that Hella looks like she's on fire with a bright white blaze. 

Adaire bites down on her jealousy, and draws a knife out of her sleeve. Slowly she eases herself down from the ledge where she sits, and makes her way around the curve of the wall, letting Hella's lightshow distract the guards as she slips inside.

It's dark in here. Not surprising, given that this is the closest thing to a prison this meager city has to offer. It takes a minute for Adaire's eyes to adjust, and in that time she reviews the map of this place she'd made Hella memorize. Blake should be a floor down, two rights and then a left, retrace the path back out, sit back and wait for Hella to finish having fun with the guards. Easy.

As she looks down she spies a pearl on the ground. Raising an eyebrow, she crouches down to peer at it, suspicious of Adelaide even now. The pearl rolls away slightly, then back toward her, as if beckoning Adaire to follow. 

She consults her mental map of the facility. It seems to be going the correct way, so she lets out a near-soundless breath and follows.

Her first indication that things are going wrong is the way her guiding pearl slows, jumps about a foot in the air, then rolls off to the side of the hallway. Adaire's no stranger to dicey situations in her professional life, so she checks her breathing and presses herself into the hollow of a small alcove. It's old hat for her, but even now she feels the adrenaline thrill in her stomach and can't help smiling at the pearl at her feet. The pearl jumps again, and Adaire can almost feel Adelaide doing her best to put on a disappointed look.

Footsteps clatter down the hall. Three sets of feet, all wearing sturdy boots, about human or elf sized from the sound of it. They pass her by with no incident, but she waits an extra heartbeat just in case. She swallows her nausea as she hears muffled yelling and the distinctive clash of steel on steel -- Hella can take care of herself. Hella is the most badass person Adaire knows. Hella is the beloved consort of the Queen of Death. She'll be fine.

Even if Hella is in trouble, there's nothing Adaire can do to fix it. All she can do is her job. Blake is waiting on her, and she trusts Hella to do what's necessary. She allows herself one more breath of anxiety, then puts it aside and follows Adelaide's pearl to the stairwell. 

It's a wooden, rickety thing, quite unlike the more stable stone steps she's used to. It's too high to jump down (which is a pity, because she's going to be making a hell of a racket coming down), so she tests to see if the railing will support her weight. 

It's a bet she doesn't want to make. If she falls, she'll ruin the chances of breaking Blake out, risking a serious injury to herself to boot. But getting down the bannister is going to be the quietest way, if not the safest, so she flexes her fingers carefully before reaching out with a toe. 

The pearl rams into her ankle just before she gets her weight on the rail, and she looks down, irritated. But when she sees what Adelaide is doing, the itchy red of the anger fades to a background burr. There are at least a dozen pearls on the floor now, coalescing into a platform hovering about four inches off the ground.

Adaire stifles a sigh. "I can do it myself, you know," she mutters under her breath, but she steps onto the pearls anyway. Adelaide can hold that over her head later, but Blake will never know, so it seems a fair enough trade.

The original pearl continues to lead the way, rolling down the stairs with a smug air about it. Adaire steps off the platform as soon as she reaches the lower level. Even if she's begrudgingly accepted Adelaide's presence on this con, she's not going to lean on divine intervention any more than absolutely necessary. 

Two rights and a left. She can no longer hear the clamor of combat from Hella's direction -- whether that's because she's too far away or because something has gone horribly wrong, she can't tell -- so she picks up the pace. Check the corners, step carefully, and she's outside Blake's cell.

Her hands are shaking as she reaches for the lock. Not a lot, because Adaire is a professional, damnit, and she is _not_ distracted by the fact that her girlfriend is upstairs fighting five-on-one. But she is shaking, and she hates the swell of relief in her chest when Adelaide's pearls melt and reform into an iridescent skeleton key. 

It takes five seconds to get the door open, and another five to push through the entrance to scoop Blake's unconscious form into her arms. Adaire clutches them to her chest, surprised at how light they are. The pearlescent key in her hand stays solid, for which she's pathetically grateful, and she follows the other pearls back down the hall.

She makes it back to the stairwell with little incident. Adelaide's platform doesn't even merit a grunt this time; Adaire's focus is so tight on Hella that she barely remembers to check corners. But she is a professional, and even if it's more reflex than conscious thought she still remembers her job. 

As Adaire gets closer to the courtyard, she still can't hear any movement. Her heart is in her throat as she carefully peers outside, ready to drop Blake and run if she has to.

"Hi," Hella says, casual as can be. 

"Fuck," Adaire replies, and Hella laughs. "I -- everything went okay?" She can see how well it went, given the five bodies tied up on the ground, but she asks anyway.

"It was fine," Hella says. "I know what I'm doing, Adaire, I trust you to do your job, so you can trust me to do mine."

Adaire drops Blake unceremoniously to the ground and reaches up to kiss Hella. "I do. Always. I knew Adelaide wasn't going to let her favorite knight die."

"And I knew Adelaide wasn't going to let her favorite knight's girlfriend die." Hella kisses her back, and Adaire knows she's blushing. 

A solid warmth falls over the two of them like an old, comfortable blanket. Hella is glowing again, and the pearl-key grows warm in Adaire's hand, and Adelaide wraps them into her own long-distance sort of embrace. 

"Let's get out of here," Hella says.

"Before these guys wake up and find out Blake's gone," Adaire agrees.

They steal one last kiss, and Adelaide squeezes them close once more, and then they go.


End file.
